


(the weight of) your secrets on my shoulders

by livinglaughinglove



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor has a lot of feelings about that, POV Lena Luthor, because they deserve one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinglaughinglove/pseuds/livinglaughinglove
Summary: “So,” she says nonchalantly, the thin stem of her wine glass caught between her finger and thumb as the last drop of red swirls around the bottom. “Got any plans for the holiday?”Or,Lena Luthor knows.





	(the weight of) your secrets on my shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been a fair while since I've posted a fic, but this kinda attacked me about a month ago. I left it alone to go surfing, and then sort of forgot about it. Today has been a pretty creative day for me though, and so after doing some drawing and then going to the pub, I thought I might dust this off and share it.
> 
> Set sometime this November/December, but it doesn't really stick to anything much resembling canon for obvious reasons.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The universe is vast, so close to endless that most cannot distinguish one from the other.

The universe is vast, and somewhere very far from the centre of it is a planet that orbits a star (as so many do), and on that planet are the last of a dead people trying to find a home.

The universe is vast, and on that planet there is a woman, so used to having everything she could ever need but nothing she could ever want (who felt guilty for wanting _more_ ), and that woman is learning, slowly, to trust the people she loves.

The universe is vast, and one day Lena Luthor wakes up, and she _knows_.

 

*

 

“So,” she says nonchalantly, the thin stem of her wine glass caught between her finger and thumb as the last drop of red swirls around the bottom. “Got any plans for the holiday?” The glass is brittle in her hand, and she can see the reflection of Kara’s bright smile just below the lipstick stain.

“Yeah, I’m going to see some friends from out of town.” She sounds happy, relaxed as they are on Kara’s sofa in Kara’s apartment, soft blankets draped over their laps and the last spoon of ice cream melting in her bowl. The DVD player has switched itself off, the film long over, and only the dim sounds of the city fill the space between them.

(And Lena can’t help but wonder if these _friends_ are really that, and how far out of town are they really from, and is it just the truth or is something more hiding beneath the innocent words)

“Oh? That sounds nice.” And really, it does, because she has to believe that Kara tells her the truth as often as possible.

(She doesn’t.)

 

*

 

There’s a Galaxy that some call the Milky Way (that has nothing to do with milk, although the way of life is long and winding—), and in that Galaxy, there are many stars.

There’s a Galaxy that some call the Milky Way, and the life that relies on these stars is chaotic and varied, and perhaps the only thing that most of these lifeforms can somewhat agree on is that it could be _so much more_.

There’s a Galaxy that some call the Milky Way, and Lena Luthor (unknowingly and yet completely aware) feels the same as most of these life forms, just not in the way most would think.

There’s a Galaxy that some call the Milky Way, and in it, Lena Luthor lives life and loves ( _loves_ ).

 

*

 

“You brought me flowers again?” The question is accompanied by a bashful grin, smaller that Kara’s wide smiles but no less warm or intoxicating (and Lena thinks she would do anything, _anything_ , to make her smile). Kara lowers her nose to inhale the scent of the purple hyacinth, and Lena can’t stop herself from admiring the curve of her neck and the juncture of her shoulder with said curve.

“I saw them on the way here and though of you.”

(A lie, she went in the opposite direction to Kara’s place of work to find something sweet-smelling and wonderful and probably too expensive)

Lena desperately tries for a casual cadence, a small shrug, anything to prevent the true level of _adoration_ she has for this woman from being known, but she sees Kara smile again and she thinks (knows) she might have failed a little.

(Doesn’t she always?)

“Thank you,” Kara says instead of touching upon one of the many elephants in the room, and places the small pot on her desk. “We’re still good for lunch, right?”

“Of course,” she murmurs, “See you then.”

(And when she gets the text later saying that ‘something came up at work and could they please reschedule?’, Lena types back ‘ _of course’_ and pretends the sudden lump in her throat isn’t real.)

(What is?)

 

*

 

The yellow star called the Sun is average in Galactic standards, but to those who orbit around it and depend on it, it’s quite a satisfactory size.

The yellow star called the Sun is average in Galactic standards, but the power Kryptonians gain from it is anything but. (It is awe-inspiring and marvellous and frightening.)

The yellow star called the Sun is average in Galactic standards, and it can burn Lena Luthor to a crisp in very little time (the curse of fair skin and a soft heart susceptible to brilliance).

The yellow star called the Sun is average in Galactic standards, and Lena Luthor wishes she weren’t so _helpless_.

 

*

 

“So,” she says after she takes a gulp of water to douse the chilli on her tongue. It was Kara’s turn to pick the restaurant, which lead to her sitting in what she’s sure would be a wonderful fusion place if she actually liked copious amounts of spice. “I meant to ask when I saw you the other day, did you have a nice time with your friends?”

Kara gets this little crinkle between her eyebrows, and she hurriedly tries to finish the humongous mouthful of food stuffed in her cheeks (which should be gross but is actually sort of adorable) before answering.

“It was okay,” she says thoughtfully. “Barry was a bit distracted, and he wouldn’t say why at first, but we got to the bottom of it eventually. Oliver was slightly less of an ass than usual, and I met this _really_ cool woman called Kate. She’s…” Kara’s hand fiddles next to hers on the table, as if grasping for the right words, and Lena almost reaches out to soothe the motion herself (lucky miss, her head says, but her heart—). “She’s awesome. Kinda made me miss Sara though.”

Lena doesn’t quite know what to do with all these names and friends she’s never heard of, but she nods along anyway. It’s a good sign, after all. If Kara’s talking about _these_ things, maybe she’ll talk about _other_ things someday too.

“Was Sara busy this time?” And her question is innocent, but a pang of jealousy thrums through her throat at the crestfallen expression that crosses Kara’s face.

“Yeah, she had a work thing, which sucks, because I really wanted to meet her new girlfriend. But I met Kate instead though, and she was,” she stutters, blushes, and “she was _cool_.” (And _oh,_ there’s that feeling in her throat again, and it really has no right to be there, but she can’t help but wonder – about Kate and Kara and _Kate and Kara_.)

(She tells herself to stop being so— that this isn’t like her, but then she’s always had a problem retaining her composure around either version of the woman in front of her)

“But hey,” and Kara is the one who reaches out, who covers Lena’s hand with her own and brushes her thumb over Lena’s now hot skin. “Enough about me. How was your holiday?” She narrows her eyes. “And if all you did was work, I swear, Lena Luthor, I will end you. And then take you out to have some _fun_.”

(It sounds like a lovely way to go.)

 

*

 

The Earth is home to many living things, and many living things claim it and feed it and kill it.

The Earth is home to many living things, and while most of them were born there, some weren’t, and have instead eked out a space to call theirs in a place entirely alien and strange. And they have suffered, and they have _thrived_.

The Earth is home to many living things, and Kara Danvers is one of them, and that makes it infinitely more precious.

The Earth is home to many living things, and all Lena Luthor wants is the truth. (And there’s only one person she wants it from, because she loves her, and she _cannot_ continue like this.)

 

*

 

(Kara kisses her on a Sunday afternoon, the sounds of the street fair she’d dragged Lena to in her ears and the smell of fried sugar on the breeze. Kara kisses her in the shade of a plane tree, and she tastes of strawberry cotton candy and Lena can feel herself slowly sinking as if her feet were stuck in quicksand. Kara kisses her and it’s the best thing and the worst thing.)

(Because if Kara can lie to her for years about everything she is, she can pretend she feels the same too.)

(Because Lena so desperately wants this to be real)

 

*

 

Supergirl stands tall and proud on her office balcony, cape fluttering in the cold winter wind and the scent of a storm in the air. For a moment, Lena hates her.

“You wanted to see me?” And while she would normally clench her toes and take a deep breath at the level of _command_ in Kara’s voice, tonight, after the fair earlier and after the past two years, she is just so very _tired_.

(And hopelessly in love with a woman who could and does break her with every word, every smile.)

“Yes,” she says, her tone flat and dull. “I need you to know that I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” The crinkle is back, and it’s so _Kara_ that she almost gives in, almost pretends that she called Supergirl here for nothing, and that she’ll see Kara for their first date tomorrow.

(Because seeing Kara in pain is always like taking a knife to her own flesh, and she knows that what she’s going to say will _hurt_ her.)

“I can’t be with you if you keep lying to me.”

Kara’s confusion is replaced by a powerful blankness, as if her whole face had suddenly turned to stone. Lena thinks she even stops breathing, that her cape stops moving. Everything around them is so _still_ , and maybe even the earth has stopped turning, because the force of their silence is pressing on her ribs, forcing the air from her lungs as if she was deep underwater and drowning.

“ _Lena_ —” and as Kara’s voice cracks, so does the marble around her face, splitting jaggedly down the middle and tearing in two. Her anguish collects on her eyelashes, salty and hot, and Lena thinks that her will might crumble if Kara cries.

(She _can’t_ break, she _has_ to stay strong. Because every one of the trillion cells in her body loves Kara, but Kara has taught her that it’s okay to want things for herself, and she’s taught her to stand on her own two feet and say _enough_.)

(And she loves her, but—)

“I _can’t_ , Kara.”

 

*

 

The rain comes later that night, pounding on the windows of her penthouse apartment and making her thoughts rattle around in her head until they blur into nothing. Flashes of lightning illuminate her dark kitchen as she pads around in bare feet, toes cringing against the cold tile and gooseflesh running up her legs and wrapping around her arms.

She can’t sleep (not a surprise or an uncommon occurrence, but there is a difference between being absorbed in her work and being kept up by heartbreak), but tossing and turning in bed has grown old and confining, and so she paces, restless.

(She thinks that if she can get through tonight, the rest won’t be so bad, although she’s dreading the rest of her life without Kara’s friendship, without her warmth.)

Lena knows she did the right thing, but regret sits heavy in her stomach and her heart is dead in her mouth. She _aches_ , and she can still feel Kara’s voice ringing in her ears like a blow to the head (can still feel a pair of soft lips on hers like the fire of the sun).

She misses Kara, and she loves her, but Lena knows all too well that sometimes it’s not enough.

Lena almost misses the knock at her door over the sounds of the thunderstorm (the one outside and the one in her brain), but she hears it again in a lull between lightning strikes.

(And her pulse jackhammers at her throat because there’s only one person who would be here at eleven forty-six on a Sunday night, only one person her doorman knows to let up without question)

Her hand, trembling, reaches out to open the door, and—

( _Kara_ )

The first thing she notices about the woman at her door is that she is _dripping_ wet. Her clothes (not her suit, but a cream sweater and navy leggings) cling to her body as if magnetised, the puddle of rainwater around her feet growing with every second Lena spends staring at her, because she’s never seen her like this before.

Never seen her in ordinary clothes without her glasses. Never seen her hair down without the cape.

(Never seen her look so breathtakingly _beautiful._ )

“Can—” Kara’s voice is raw, and she clears her throat. “I know I shouldn’t—can I come in?”

(And Lena is helpless to do anything but stand back and let her pass.)

She closes the door carefully behind Kara, hand lingering on the latch because she just needs a moment to _breathe_ before she can turn around and face those blue eyes again. She needs all the strength oxygen can give her before the pain washes over her once more.

“Kara, what do you want?” If her voice is both harsher and more worn than usual, she’ll blame it on the rain (and they both know that it’ll be a lie).

Kara, for her part, says nothing. She looks at Lena like she is the eye of the storm that rages above, like she is both her saviour and her doom, like Kara would happily die and live a thousand times over for a single moment of peace by Lena’s side.

The other woman wipes at her face, brushing away raindrops or more tears or both, and sighs, long and shuddering, like the end of hours’ worth of crying. (Lena’s eyes have been dry throughout the evening, but hearing that sound makes them _burn._ )

“ _Kara_ ,” Lena repeats, defeated and in agony, and the sound seems to jolt Kara into action, because the next second they are barely inches apart, and she is saying something, over and over and over.

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispers, choked and miserable. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ,” and all Lena can do is ask—

“Why did you lie?”

“Because I was selfish,” is the immediate reply, almost studied, as if she’d spent hours thinking and formulating a response. “Because you were the one person who I didn’t need to be _Supergirl_ with as well as _Kara_. Because,” and here she swallows. “Because I love you, and I thought I was protecting you, but I was only protecting myself.”

Lena’s world is breaking into mirror shards at her feet, her head spinning and her eyes wide and searching, and _Kara Danvers loves her_.

The storm is the electricity in the blue of Kara’s eyes, arcing and pulsing with sincerity and regret and guilt (and _love_ ). She can barely think for the intensity of feeling in the space between them, but she makes her lips move and throat work and words form anyway.

“You love me?” Her voice is a pitiful thing, trembling and painfully insecure, but she holds Kara’s gaze because she needs her answer like she needs the sun.

“I love you, Lena.”

(And this time it is Lena who bridges the gap, Lena who reaches out and curls her arms around Kara’s freezing waist, Lena who presses her lips to Kara’s, and they are cold, but she will always remember that _burn_.)

(Kara’s smile has broken her more times than she can count.)

(But maybe it can heal her too.)

**Author's Note:**

> Pop in for a chat at my tumblr if you fancy, I'm at livinglaughinglove over there too.


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